


Might Just Disappear

by Shadowesque



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Eventual relationship, M/M, don't ask how just let it happen slow but sure, technically there's no main character death since the character's already dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowesque/pseuds/Shadowesque
Summary: Wherein the Blue house is haunted. Wash thinks that’s bullshit. Turns out Wash is kind of haunted by association, too. Whoops?





	Might Just Disappear

Tucker looked serious as he settled at the table opposite Wash. Which was already a warning sign for Wash, to know that something was afoot, and it was probably something inevitably stupid. But he still gave his friend the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, I’m here, what do you want?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Tucker clasped his hands in front of him, appearing to give the very simple question considerable thought. “I don’t really know where to start, so I’ll just say this: this house has kind of been haunted for a while.”

Wash raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Haunted.”

“Dude, let me finish. I kind of have a story.”

“About how your house is haunted.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “ _Yeah_ , that’s what I’m trying to tell you. See, me and Caboose used to live with another guy. A real fucking asshole,” he added, glaring somewhere up closer to the ceiling as if fussing at God or Someone, “but our best friend. And there was…ehhhh, let’s call it an accident, and, long story short, he died. And then we ended up being haunted by his ghost.”

“Tucker…” sighed Wash, already feeling a little pressure form between his eyes that he pinched at. He felt bad, he really did, because losing close friends was no easy task–he would know. But to make up a story about a ghost just to keep from grieving? “Look, I’m sorry. But I can promise you that the house isn’t haunted.”

“No, dude, listen. It was like a month later, and it’d be little things at first. Stuff we could shrug off, because c’mon, ghosts? Who believes in that?” Tucker hesitated a moment. “Okay, besides Caboose, but it wasn’t the first conclusion he jumped to. A door would, I dunno, blow shut in a draft in a house that has never been drafty and has never had a problem with heavy solid doors moving on their own. Someone’s shit would get moved, and they probably just forgot they did it. But it would happen more often. And at weird times. Still, we’re probably just seeing things, hearing things, all explainable, right? But we’ve _seen_ shit move. And he reacts to things in ways that Church totally would. He’s _also_ still a major _asshole_.”

Wash did not look convinced. “You’ve seriously seen things move around on their own.” It wasn’t a question so much as a deadpan statement of disbelief.

“That’s what I just got done telling you!”

“And why _are_ you telling me this?”

Tucker sat up straighter in a jolt, almost like getting shocked. “Okay! Yes! So, here’s the thing. You came into our lives and are our friend. Even if you don’t want to admit it, I get it, big guy, no bromo, lone wolf routine, whatever. But Caboose and I, we’ve started seeing something happen, or not happen, since you’ve started hanging out, and I _think_ Church has decided to follow you around instead of staying here all the time.”

Wash stared. More. Harder. He hadn’t really stopped staring, because the whole situation was ridiculous. “I’m sorry, you’re saying your Casper the friendly ghost has adopted me as its new hauntee?”

“I know it sounds weird.”

“ _You could say.”_

“But listen, paranormal activity bullshit has been happening less here, more when you’re around. And when shit happens to you? Then he gets upset. I can’t tell if he really likes you or hates your guts…or maybe our guts, maybe he thinks you’re replacing him, I dunno…but shit gets like _thrown_ when you get your stupid ass hurt.” Tucker threw out his arms. “Dude, Church digs you, and now he’s starting to haunt you! Hasn’t any weird shit been going on at your place? Innocuous-seeming stuff, explainable shit, or shit you can’t explain but you don’t know what else to do with it but deny that it’s fucking ghosts. Come on, it took us a while to notice too.”

Wash gave no indication that that was at all the case, and of course he dismissed it off hand. But if he were honest, then he could say over the past couple of months, that…yeah, maybe some of the shit around his apartment had started getting a little weird. But not _weird_ weird. Just more problems happening when there hadn’t been before. And his memory was _good_ , but he just couldn’t remember moving some of the stuff that was clearly moved.

Didn’t mean ghosts. Since ghosts didn’t exist. Lapses in memory and other symptoms existed. Faulty appliances existed. Old and outdated utilities existed.

Ghosts did not exist.

“Ghosts don’t exist.”

Tucker wasn’t having it. “Ghosts _totally exist_ , and we know because we’ve talked to this one! And we will totally prove to you right here and now that he’s here and haunting the shit out of us, just like he always threatened to. Guy knows how to keep a promise.”

“Tucker, ghosts _aren’t real_. You can’t just _prove_ he exists unless his translucent form appears right in front of my face to say _boo_ , and even then I’d probably accuse you of setting up some kind of elaborate lighting system to special effects that up.”

The other man at the table was barely listening, though, reaching to grab something. A board of some kind, like that proved anything. A board with a planchette. “This’ll totally prove it.”

Wash balked. “That’s your proof. A fucking ouija board?”

Tucker leaned back in his chair, twisting at the torso to call out. “CABOOSE! WE’RE GONNA SUMMON CHURCH!”

Caboose, who had been conspicuously absent in this whole conversation about a dead best friend turned spirit, heartily replied from another room (with a small clatter). “Oh boy! I’ll get the snacks!”

Tucker looked smugly in Wash’s direction. “Yeah, we’ve got this whole _setup_ thing, kinda like a ritual, with some spooky stuff and with some of the shit he likes. He’s become a real demanding, fickle bitch about it.”

Though he was about to protest, Wash couldn’t find the words as Caboose came barrelling in with an armful of goodies, both edible and not, and he watched as Caboose and Tucker set up their ‘elaborate’ ‘ritual’. It included a cracked open beer, cheesy puffs, a light blue hoodie thrown on the seat of a chair, and a candle. Called ‘mountain lodge’.

“We tried incense, but man, that shit can get pricey if you get the good stuff. And nobody can resist the scent of this bad boy.

“Now,” continued Tucker as he and Caboose retook their seats, as if what just transpired was totally and completely normal, “put your hands on the pointer.”

“No.”

“C’mon, it won’t hurt.”

“I’m not touching that thing.”

“Is it because ghosts are scary?” Caboose, as always, was perfectly serious. “Because some of them can be. Church can be, too, but he’s nicer because he’s our friend and we feed him.”

“You guys are just going to push it around anyway.”

“Swear to god!” Tucker raised a hand to the sky, the other on his heart. “We aren’t pressing down or anything. Just touch it.”

“Do you want to do it by yourself?” chimed in Caboose. “It works better with more people, channeling energy to the _other place_.”

“This is _so stupid_ ,” sighed Wash. “This is just some big elaborate prank being pulled on me, and it’s not working.”

Tucker huffed, actual anger starting to creep onto his face. “Just touch the fucking board, Wash, and then you can be done. Let me do the talking. Whatever. Your bad mood probably made him go mope somewhere else and we won’t get to talk to him.”

Caboose looked horrified. “But I even got his favorite sweater! He must be really chilly.”

…Well, that settled it, didn’t it? Wash looked at Caboose, staring down sadly at the board and all the…hard work…put into trying to contact his dead friend on the other side, and damn it, he couldn’t just say no to an upset Caboose. That was highly unfair. With a long-suffering sigh and a roll of his eyes so hard he was pretty sure he strained something, Wash finally sat heavily down in the seat on his side of the table. He gave the objects, and Tucker and Caboose, one more look before warily putting the tips of his fingers on the pointer.

“If you push it around and laugh at me,” he reiterated through grit teeth and a low voice directed at Tucker, “I am going to punch you.”

“Shut up and concentrate.” Tucker took a more thorough look at their setup and then up somewhere in the air. “Sup, dickbag. If you’re around, could you give us a sign? And this time, do it with the board instead of trying to break my mom’s vase. Dick. bag. dude.”

Wash stared. “Is that seriously how you go about summoning your friend from the dead? By yelling at the void how much he’s a dick?”

“It’s worked for us so far. Hey Church! C’mon, you know you wanna say hi to your new boyfriend or whatever.”

The answer, it seemed, came almost immediately. The planchette moved, and as far as Wash could tell after the initial surprise, it moved on its own. Caboose didn’t do subtle, and…well, honestly, neither did Tucker. It just _was_.

s…t…f…u

Tucker smirked. “Yeah, there we go, that’s Church. Is it because we have your new roomie here? Checked out his ass yet?”

g…t…f…o

“So that’s a yes.”

The planchette _heaved_ itself over to NO. And after sitting there determinedly for a moment, moved again. h…i…c

Caboose pointed. “That’s me! Hi Church! I hope you aren’t too cold!”

t…h…x

“I’m gonna assume you were eavesdropping, but we just wanted to prove to Wash you were real and that you’ve started stalking him.” Tucker was grinning over at Wash.

t…o…s…s

“No, you don’t have to move anything. Just do it at his place. Or at least don’t fucking knock over the vase, man.”

u…g…l…y

“So’s your face!”

“Ask him if he likes my snacks.”

“He likes your snacks.”

“Ask hiiim!”

t…h…x…4…f…u…d

“Yay! You are welcome!”

Wash slowly shook his head. “What a lazy ghost,” was all he could say, incredulously, to the chatspeak.

a…s…s

“Are you _sure_ ,” he said with a squint at Tucker, “that you aren’t just like…moving a magnet under the table or something?”

The planchette under their fingers was still for almost a full minute before it started rising off the board from under their fingers. Nobody had any thumbs or any other fingers pressed to the bottom. It was just an invisible force up a few inches before it dropped, clattering down from their hands still raised.

Wash slowly brought his hands back to his body, first to his chest, then limply down at his sides, befuddled and unsettled. Tucker crossed his arms smugly. Caboose poked the pointer, grinning in random spots on the ceiling.

Okay. So the house was haunted.


End file.
